Firestarters
by ooncer
Summary: A prompt from the lovely SongbirdSings. Emma proposes to Regina who has a meltdown but Emma knows exactly what to say. SwanQueen territory (fluff) so if SQ is not your thing, best give this one a miss. :)


**Well hello! It's finally Summer here which means I have some time to do things other than work and sleep for once! This is based on an idea SongbirdSings gave me, so I hope you like it (and I hope she does!) I'm getting back into the swing of things by writing a few one-shots before I delve back into Life Altered, but there will be updates soon. :)**

 **Ooncer.**

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"Hey," I breathe, kissing the top of her head.

She tears her eyes away from the book she's devouring and smiles up at me. "Hi." She's relaxed. In fact, she's squinting in the way she does right before she falls asleep. A day off looks good on her.

The fire's lit and my body is prickling in the smoky warmth. "Smells like snow out there." I sit on the floor beside the fire, rubbing the feeling back into my hands.

She takes the bookmark from the table beside her, slides it between the pages and closes her book. " _Smells_ like snow?" she purrs. "Well that's a new one on me."

"You know, when you take in a deep breath and it just... smells like snow," I say, craning my neck to look at her.

"And what exactly does snow smell like?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

I think for a moment, not sure how to articulate it. In the end, the only word I can muster is, "Special. Like breathing in a lungful of something you're not supposed to. A secret."

She seems satisfied with that. She smiles again, blinks, sighs contently. She pulls her legs up and covers them with a blanket. "I missed you today," she says.

I swear, if I could bottle her, I would. She's intoxicating. Even from the other side of the room, I'm drawn to her side as though by an invisible force. It's like a survival instinct. I have to be with her to be alive. Sinking into her side, I run my fingertips up and down her arm. The warmth she's radiating feels like it's only for me.

My thoughts are lost in the crackling flames. I watch them dance in the reflection of my pendant, a million tongues hissing secrets that disappear up the chimney forever. Fire is so often seen as a destroyer, an unwelcome visitor and bringer of ruin, but it isn't. It's a promise. A promise that so long as there is wood or coal or paper, it will burn. It's relentless and passionate and desperate to stay alive by whatever means necessary.

"You're my fuel," I whisper, resting my head against her arm.

"Excuse me?"

"You're my fuel," I repeat. "I need you. If a fire doesn't have fuel, it can't go on. It fizzles out and dies because it's no longer sustained. You sustain me. If I didn't have you, I couldn't breathe. I'd be snuffed out."

She doesn't speak immediately. The even rise and fall of her body with each breath is soothing and if I put my ear against her and listen carefully, I can hear her heart beating.

After a minute or two she responds. "If I'm your fuel, you're my air. Our fire can't exist without both of those things. Sometimes being away from you for just a day sucks my air away."

I sit up and look into the beautiful sable eyes I know so well. They're wide now, round and full of emotion.

"Marry me."

Her face crumples. I look at her, confused. This is supposed to be a good thing. So why does she look so upset? Tears begin to stream down her face. I get up and crouch down to face her.

"No, no, no," I gabble, "That was supposed to be a _good_ surprise! Here, look, I have a ring and everything," I assure her, pulling the tiny box from my pocket and snapping it open. The silver glints in the firelight but when I look up again, she's sobbing. "Regina, please," I beg, "what is it?"

She takes a moment to compose herself, sniffling and desperately trying to quell her tears. "I'm sorry," she finally chokes, "but I can't marry you."

My heart is thumping now. This was not the reaction I had hoped for, especially after it's taken so long to work up the courage to propose. I gasp involuntarily and stumble backwards.

"Oh no," she says, grabbing my hand to steady me. She's desperately trying to heave her breathing back into rhythm, "I want to. I want to, more than anything. You have to believe that."

I don't know what to believe. I love her. Deeply, suffocatingly. Her and Henry are all that matter. I thought she felt the same way. "I… I thought-" I try to speak but I'm gasping for breath. Choking.

"Emma, please. Don't ask me to be your wife. I don't deserve it." She's sobbing again now, using the sleeves of her sweater to dab away the cascades. "After everything I've done, everything I'm guilty of… I can't drag you into that. Being me is a curse in itself. I can't subject you to whatever might be around the corner for me. I can't risk it."

" _I_ can," I say. "I'll take all the risks in the world as long as it means being with you." I use my thumb to wipe away the tears that still run unchecked down her cheeks. "You've changed. You're a hero."

She splutters in disbelief.

"You are," I tell her. "To me, to Henry, to the town. You've changed. You've earned happiness."

"If something happens to me… I can't let you go through that again," she manages through heaving breaths.

"Oh, Gina. My Gina. How can I make you see, I'd do anything, anything in the world, just to feel one second of what I feel for you every day. I'd die for you."

"You would?" She's stopped crying now but she's trembling. It's like this emotion is too much for her body to handle.

"Again and again and again. Surely you must know that? If I haven't made that clear enough, I'm sorry. I love you. I'd cross realms to be with you. Please."

"You really want to-" She takes a steadying breath and clasps my hand in hers. "I don't know how to be anybody's wife."

"We have that in common," I reassure her. "But we'll learn. We learned to be together didn't we? Despite everyone and everything standing in our way. So we can do this. You may not know how to be a wife, but you know how to love. You do it every day."

"I'm sorry." She exhales deeply. "I do love you. Really I do."

"Then please, _please_ marry me?" I ask again, tears escaping once again down my own cheeks. I pick up the box from the carpet and remove the ring. "Don't take my fuel away from me, Regina."

Her eyes flick from me to the ring and back again. I don't know what else I can say to make her understand how much I need her. Finally, bottom lip trembling, she slides her finger through the circle and holds up her hand to admire it. She tries to say something but can't.

I rise up, cupping her cheeks in my hands and kiss her. Her lips were made for mine, her taste so sweet that I long to explore her deeper. Everything else melts away. The fire, the ring, the past. Everything. It's just her and me and our love and, when we have that, nothing else matters. She pulls away, but only an inch.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, pressing her forehead against mine, our noses caressing.

"I know. I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to ambush you. I just… I want to be with you. Forever."

She gives me a watery smile. "And I with you," she says. "You're my air."

"You're my fuel." I kiss her again, sparks shooting down my spine. "And together, we'll make fire."


End file.
